


Hogwarts, A History

by otherpartyfavors



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Gen, Hogwarts AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-23 11:29:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 17,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4875028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otherpartyfavors/pseuds/otherpartyfavors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 1942, and Jemma Simmons has just started as Matron of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, alongside an old classmate, Leo Fitz, the Care of Magical Creatures professor. Amidst a budding romance between the pair, strange attacks on Muggle-borns have left them wondering if there really is a Chamber of Secrets. </p><p>A Whole New World/More than 5k Hogwarts AU fanfic for drunkenavocados/DaniMeows!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dani meows (DaniMeows)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaniMeows/gifts).



**PROLOGUE**

_“’I knew I was different,’ he whispered to his own quivering fingers. ‘I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something.’_

_‘Well, you were quite right,’ said Coulson, who was no longer smiling, but watching Ward intently. “You are a wizard.’”_

_-Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_

_\---_

 

Grant Ward stared into the contents of his trunk, which was filled with countless books, socks, and robes, packed to the brim and ready for another year at Hogwarts. A grin slowly crept across Ward’s face as he eyed a diary, worn and yellowing, tucked behind his socks. He had been gathering information in that dairy, and had plans to use it well this year. The prefect badge upon his chest shown brightly in the mirror, filling Ward with excitement on what he might be able do with that badge, and what he might be able to get away with. He had his professors in the palm of his hand, he thought, closing up his trunk and turning to carry it out of the room.

But before he could make it out, a small girl with bouncy curls stopped him.

“Back to that special school of yours, huh?” said Raina, entering his room and flopping down on his bed.

Ward merely nodded and stuck his hands into his pockets. Raina wasn’t terribly annoying, as the other children in the orphanage were, but he didn’t like her that much and was ready to leave.

“You weren’t even going to say goodbye, were you?” she sighed, looking everywhere in the room but at him.

“Well, it’s not like we’re really friends, are we?” answered Ward. It was a true statement, although perhaps not to her. They weren’t really friends. They were occasional allies against the others and Mrs. Cole.

Raina’s eyes snapped to Ward, but she shrugged off his comment after a moment, used to his flippant behavior. “Still don’t see why you get to go to some special school and leave the rest of us here.”

“Oh, come on, Raina,” he said, “In a month or two Mrs. Cole will be shipping you all to a safe house in the countryside. Probably will be twice the size of this place, at least. And away from the bombings. You could pretend it’s a special boarding school.”

“Oh, shut up,” she said, throwing a pillow in his direction. “I’d hardly call escaping the war fun and exciting.”

“True. Guess it’s time you and the others finally recognized that I stand out. I’m not like you all. Therefore I have better opportunities than you do.”

Raina rolled her eyes. “Oh, we’re well aware of that, Grant, but it’s not what you think. You’re not some prodigy or anything. You merely hold more of a grudge than the rest of us. And have a more violent side, although we can never prove it.” She stood up, walking towards the door. “But we know,” she said, turning around to face him, “You’re an orphan just like the rest of us. You’ll turn into a bum just like your mum and dad—“

But before she could finish her sentence, Ward had rushed towards her, grabbing her arm forcefully. “Never,” he said, each syllable dripping with anger, “compare me to my father.” He let go of her arm with a snap, letting her stumble back out of his doorway.

“Good riddance, Ward,” she said, fighting back the emotions filling her voice.

Once Ward had left his room and come to the front door of the orphanage, he pulled out his wand. About a year ago, Ward had devised a rather ingenious spell, making it possible for him to do magic without the Ministry being alerted. He had bigger plans to do with this power, but for now, enchanting the near by spider to follow Raina to her room was enough.

“No one compares me to my filthy, Muggle father,” Ward mumbled, putting his wand back into his pocket, and walking out the door.


	2. Chapter One

**CHAPTER ONE**

_“Madam Simmons, the matron, was a nice woman, but very strict._

_‘Just five minutes,’ Harry pleaded._

_‘Absolutely not.’_

_‘You let Professor Coulson in…’_

_‘Well, of course, that was the Headmaster, quite different. You need rest.’_

_‘I am resting, look, lying down and everything. Oh, go on, Madam Simmons…’_

_‘Oh, very well,’ she said. ‘But five minutes only.’_

_And she let Ron and Hermione in.”_

_-Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone_

_\---_

Jemma Simmons looked at herself in the mirror, smiling wide at the sight of herself in her Hogwarts Matron uniform. Four years of study at St. Mungo’s had finally paid off, and she was on way to being the youngest Matron Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had ever seen.

“Jemma!” came her mother’s voice from down the hall. “Come have some tea with your father and I before you leave!”

“Be right there, Mum!” Jemma answered, as she threw a family photograph (the Muggle kind), several books on magical maladies, and a few extra tins of cat food into her trunk.

Her mother had set out a rather elaborate tea, no doubt in order to stall Jemma as much as possible.

“Oh, mum, you know I’ve only got five minutes to spare…” she said, pouring herself a small cup and munching on a scone.

“I know, Jemma,” her mother started, “but we barely get to see you, and there’s a war going on…”

“You sure these Nazis don’t have anything against you magical folk?” her father piped up from behind the refrigerator, pulling out a large plate of sandwiches for the table.

“I’m positive,” Jemma said. “As far as I know, Hitler has no idea witches and wizards exist. There are some disconcerting magical happenings going on in Eastern Europe, but there’s no proof it’s connected to Hitler’s movement.”

“Why didn’t you tell us about that?” her mother asked, looking shocked. “It’s one thing for someone like us to start a war; it’s another thing entirely if that person can do magic.”

“Mother, I promise, it’s being handled,” said Jemma, taking a sip of tea. She honestly had no idea if that was true. John Garrett was gaining followers, according to that day’s edition of _The Daily Prophet_.

“All right,” her mother relented. “I wish we could tell all our friends about your new job—you know we’re very proud of you, right?”

Jemma smiled. “Yes, mum, I know. You can always tell them I went to be head nurse somewhere.” Jemma couldn’t be more grateful for her parents. When she got her Hogwarts letter all those years ago, they were initially frightened, but incredibly supportive in their daughter’s education as a witch.

“I really should be going now,” she said with a sigh, glancing at her watch. “Mum, Dad, if something does go wrong and the war reaches you, send me a message via the Floo Network—you remember how to do that, right?”

“Yes, yes,” her father said, standing up to give her a hug. “You take care of yourself, now, and all those students.”

“Of course, Dad,” said Jemma, hugging him back tightly.

“And let us know if this business in Eastern Europe gets out of hand,” her mother said, reaching for a handkerchief and dabbing her eyes.

“Oh, Mum, I’ll be fine.”

After a final round of hugs were given, Jemma pulled up her trunk and her cat, and threw a handful of Floo powder from the mental into the fireplace, stepping in with a loud and clear “Hogsmeade!”

* * *

 

The warm, cozy bar of the Three Broomsticks materialized in front of Jemma, who stepped out of the large fireplace with a skip. She had always loved coming back to Hogwarts on September 1st as a student, and she couldn’t believe she was coming back as the Matron. On her walk up to the castle, she could see lines of students making their way into the Entrance Hall and scores of little first years crossing the lake, barely visible under the darkening sky.

The Great Hall looked spectacular as ever, barely changed from her time as a student. As she walked toward the staff table, Headmistress Hill, a tall, serious women whom she remembered well, showed her to her seat besides the Transfiguration teacher, Professor Coulson.

“Miss Simmons!” Professor Coulson said brightly, “I heard you were returning to the castle. Always nice to see Hogwarts’ best and brightest students find meaningful work.”

“Now, Professor Coulson,” Professor Hill chided, leaning forward and narrowing her intense gaze, “she’ll be Madam Simmons now.”

“Yes, yes,” said Coulson, flashing a smile towards Jemma with that familiar twinkle in his eye, “She will be Madam Simmons, and we’re all very proud of her for that.”

“Why, thank you, sir,” Jemma said, touched by the amount of support she had from her former professors turned colleagues. The feeling was rather surreal.

After a few more re-introductions to Professors May, Weaver, and Hall (along with a surprise raspberry in Jemma’s ear from the school poltergeist, Koenig), the sorting began. Jemma noted that there were a few new faces sitting along the staff table as well.

One of the new professors looked very familiar. He looked about her age, with sandy curls and a slight figure, eating animatedly while talking with Madam Hand, the Quidditch coach.

Jemma gently nudged Professor Coulson in the elbow, as Professor May was placing the old Sorting Hat on his stool. “Professor Coulson,” she whispered, trying to sound casual, “is that Leopold Fitz? One of the Gryffindor prefects from my year?” 

“It is,” he whispered back. “He came on last year as the Care of Magical Creatures professor. You’re not the only staff member under thirty!” Coulson smiled and tucked back into his dinner, looking up at the Sorting Hat, who had just began to sing:

 

_I’ve sat upon this stool, you see,_

_For many countless years;_

_I’ll sit upon this stool, no doubt,_

_‘Til Father Time appears;_

_Students come from all about_

_To learn a thing or two,_

_And I decide where best you fit—_

_What Hogwarts House will do._

_I’ve given some to Gryffindor,_

_A brave and daring sort,_

_And some belong to Ravenclaw,_

_Where knowledge runs not short._

_Some go on to Hufflepuff,_

_The true and patient folk,_

_And many still to Slytherin—_

_Cunning spirits they evoke._

_I tell you where you ought to go,_

_And go there you oblige,_

_But now I ask you one more thing:_

_Listen to my advice._

_The best teacher here is not on legs,_

_Or any other limb,_

_But tucked away behind the shelves_

_Of past and present grim._

_Understand what’s gone before;_

_Pay attention where you stand._

_What’s past and what will come, you see,_

_Are partnered hand in hand._

The Great Hall erupted into applause at the end of the Hat’s song, which left Jemma feeling a little confused. But Sorting Hat’s songs were often vague and forbidding, so she shrugged it off and continued eating her food with interest.

She snuck another glance down the table to Leo Fitz, now Professor Fitz, as he chuckled at a particularly floppy looking first year, who came to the front tripping over her too-large robes.

Jemma remembered his face well, although she couldn’t remember having a conversation with him that lasted longer than, “Can you pass the frog spleen?” She had always been fond of his face, though, and had often enjoyed looking at it on the rare occasion she wasn’t paying attention in Potions class.

Just as Jemma was thinking to herself that his face had improved with age, he looked up in her direction. She jumped slightly, turning her eyes away, but after a moment or two, chanced another glance. Rather surprised, Jemma found him looking at her as he waved awkwardly. She returned the wave, wondering if he had mistaken her for someone else or if he really did remember her.

The sorting soon finished, and after all the plates had been cleaned, Headmistress Hill dismissed the students from the Great Hall, giving the first years the familiar advice to follow their House prefects.

Jemma couldn’t help but smile as a little group of Ravenclaw first years stumbled towards the entrance to the Great Hall, remembering her first trip to the Ravenclaw common room.

“Can you believe we were that small once?” came a voice from behind her shoulder.

Jemma turned around, and saw Leo Fitz, laughing, rather nervously, at the bobble of 11-year-olds, who most likely had too much dessert and not enough dinner.

“Oh!” said Jemma, taken by surprise. “Yes! Yes, it is hard to believe.”

They stood next to each other awkwardly for a moment, watching the students leave the Hall, as Jemma thought desperately for something to say.

“So,” she started, “it’s Fitz, right?”

“Yes!” he said, “And you’re Simmons, yeah? Ravenclaw—and Head Girl, right?”

“Oh, yes I was,” Jemma answered, “I think we had Potions together.”

“Yeah, I remember!” he responded, eyes bright. “You always beat me on every exam, no matter how much I studied.”

“Well, I’m sure that’s not true,” said Jemma, blushing slightly. “I seem to remember you making top marks as well. 

“Yeah, I did okay,” he conceded, “but not quite as well as you.”  

Their conversation paused as they watched the Hogwarts’ ghosts float by, with Nearly Eyeless Nick terrifying a student or two by lifting up his eye patch.

“So you’re the new matron, right?” Fitz continued. “That’s a tough job to get—congratulations.”

“Thank you,” said Jemma, once again feeling a blush creep up her cheeks. “It feels surreal, being back. Did you feel like that when you first started?”

“Oh, I still feel like that all the time,” Fitz answered, laughing a bit. “Just the other day, I had to ask Professor May about something, and you’d think that after working with her for a year, I’d get over it, but nope. I’m still completely terrified of her.”

Jemma laughed at this, remembering all the times she, too, had been absolutely petrified in the presence of Professor May.

“Well,” Fitz said, “it’ll be nice to have someone my age around. The staff here are great, but it can feel a little lonely being the only one under forty-something.”

“Is there really no one younger than forty here?” Jemma asked.

“Not that I know of, although I’m terrible guessing ages. I’d have guessed all the first years were six, not eleven.”

“I’m with you there,” said Jemma, as a first year passed who was no taller than her hip.

“Madam Simmons!” called Professor May, who was quickly walking towards her and Fitz. “Simmons, Headmaster Hill asked me to show you to quarters. Would you follow me?”

Jemma exchanged a nervous look with Fitz, who made a face behind Professor May of mock terror. Trying not to laugh, Jemma said a quick goodbye to Fitz, and left the Great Hall with Professor May.


	3. Chapter Two

**CHAPTER TWO**

_“’As to our second new appointment,’ Coulson continued as the lukewarm applause for Professor Lupin died away. “Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Fitz, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Mike Peterson, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties.’”_

_-Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_

_\---_

 

Leo Fitz sighed heavily as his alarm clock sounded the next morning. He was glad for school to be back in session, but not particularly glad about the early mornings. The Gamekeeper, a very old man by the name of Stan, needed a fair amount of extra help, especially after developing arthritis in his knees. As the Care of Magical Creatures teacher, Fitz was the best man to help.

Once Fitz was up and awake, he really didn’t mind the extra chores. The castle grounds were quiet that morning, although one or two excited students were up early to explore. Attending to the Hogwarts game usually didn’t take too much concentration, and it was an excellent way for Fitz to sift through all of his thoughts before starting the day.

On this particular morning, however, Fitz was not finding a great deal of calm in his chores. All he could think about was the reunion with his old classmate, Jemma Simmons. While he didn’t admit it to anyone at the time, Fitz had a substantial crush on her when he was a student at Hogwarts. He barely talked to her back then, not trusting himself to speak correctly in front of her. It had been several years since graduating, but seeing her the night before brought back all the panicky feelings of being seventeen.

This was precisely why, upon seeing her at the Welcome Feast, Fitz had downed his two-and-a-half glasses of wine a little too fast. He still couldn’t believe he waved to her, smiled at her, and had a full conversation with her. The wine had made him just tipsy enough to ignore his anxiety, and he had even complimented her multiple times. He could even remember her blushing.

Yet another thought kept gnawing at him: that no matter the situation or how well he conversed with Simmons, she was a colleague, and his little resurfacing crush needed to stop before it got out of hand. As he strode into the Great Hall for breakfast, he was determined to avoid Jemma Simmons, and if he had to talk to her, remain as business like as possible.

Unfortunately, one of the first things he did when he rounded the corner into the Hall was run directly into Simmons, spilling her pumpkin juice down her robes.

“Oh my god,” Fitz let out hoarsely, “Simmons! I’m so, so sorry. I’m an absolute idiot.”

“You’re nothing of the sort!” She responded brightly, waving her wand and cleaning up the mess as if it never happened. “There, no harm done!” She beamed at him expectantly, and Fitz was hit with the horrifying realization that she wanted him to talk to her.

Fitz swallowed hard as he tried to thinking of something to say, cursing the fact that it was too early in the day to ease the situation with wine. “Um, so, first day, yeah?” he managed to get out.

“Indeed,” she answered, giving him an amused smile. “I don’t have classes like you, but do you have any ‘first day’ advice?”

“Em,” Fitz started, trying to think of an answer, but really only being able to smile back at her. Her smile was quite contagious. “Just don’t let them mess with you too much. They like to mess with the new staff—learned that the hard way.”

“Oh dear,” said Simmons, with wide eyes, “I’ll have to hear about that story sometime, but I’ve got to get to the Hospital Wing. Good luck today!”

Fitz registered that he was lifting his arm (in what he could only assume was a wave) as she turned to leave the Hall, letting out a sigh as he watched her go. Getting rid of his infatuation would be harder than he thought.

 

* * *

 

Few students or staff knew of the large menagerie on the south side of the castle, but Fitz was well accustomed to it. He stopped by on his way to the open grounds outside the Entrance Hall (where he taught his classes), and picked up a large crate with one of Fitz’s favorite animals in it: a clabbert by the name of Felix, who resembled something of a frog mixed with a monkey, with a red spot on the top of his head.

Felix was a bit docile, even more so than the typical clabbert, but the students really liked the clabbert lesson last year, so Fitz moved it up to the first day.

A group of groggy third years stood waiting by the Entrance Hall, wearing either red and gold or blue and bronze on their Hogwarts robes.

“Hello everyone!” Fitz called out to the students, who were eyeing the clabbert with interest. “Hope you all are having a good first day—this here is a clabbert by the name of Felix. Can anyone tell me a fact about the clabbert?”

“It looks like a green monkey,” said a small boy in the front. 

“Well, you’re not too far off,” said Fitz, “the clabbert is like a monkey in his shape and size, but what about his skin? Can anyone tell me about that?”

“It’s like frog skin,” called a girl from the front with large glasses.

“That’s right—clabberts are amphibians. And they have this red spot on their heads here that glow when they sense danger. Now, I’m going to let Felix out of his cage, and I want you all to observe how he walks around, what he finds to eat, and write it down—turn it in before you leave today and for next class summarize the textbook section on clabberts.” 

The students all watched Felix as he stepped out of his cage and immediately began searching the ground for bugs. Fitz walked amongst the students, answering questions and taking attendance.

There seemed to be a bit of a squabble going on behind him. He turned around to find one girl snickering and another girl, the one who had said Felix had frog-like skin, was wailing rather obnoxiously.

“Hey,” said Fitz, walking up to the pair, “What’s going on here?”

“She—“ started the crying girl, but before she could say anything more, she burst into even louder tears.

The other girl rolled her eyes. “Look,” she said, crossing her arms, “all I said was Mary Sue looked a bit like Felix, and she got all upset. She does this all the time.”

“Well maybe that’s because it’s a rude thing to say,” said Fitz, “What’s your name?”

“Lorelei Hornby,” she said stiffly.

“Well, Ms. Hornby, I’ll be taking 5 points from Ravenclaw and I don’t expect you to interrupt my class again.”

“Yes, sir,” she mumbled through gritted teeth.

He turned back to the crying girl, who surprisingly was still sobbing just as hard as when she began.

“What’s your name?” He asked tentatively.

“Mary—Sue—P—Poots,” she managed to get out between sobs, “but they all call my M-Moping Mary.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter what ‘they’ call you,” said Fitz. “Is there anything else that’s wrong? Or is it just her?”

“Well,” said Mary Sue, taking a deep breath, “everything is wrong! No one likes me, I barely slept last night, my owl hates me, and I have the worst cold in the world.”

Fitz tried not to laugh at her over exaggerated statements, remembering how terrible everything felt at thirteen, and instead had an idea. “A cold, you say? Well, I bet Madam Simmons can whip you up a Pepper Up potion that will have you back on your feet in no time. 

“Pepper Up?” she said skeptically, “It doesn’t have any side effects, does it?”

“Not that I know of,” he answered, “But Madam Simmons will know. You can go to her now if you’d like.”

“Well, I guess that sounds alright,” she said, pretending that getting out of class wasn’t something to be happy about.

“Good girl—see you next week,” said Fitz, patting her on the back as she left.

“That was really good of you,” came a voice from behind Fitz.

He turned around, seeing a very tall boy who looked excited about something.

“I’m Mike. Mike Peterson. Everyone rags on Mary Sue—she needs some encouragement every now and then.” Mike paused for a moment, and before Fitz could respond, Mike began to speak again. “Felix is really neat. I mean, really neat.”

“You think so?” said Fitz, glad a student was showing such keen interest, “Honestly, he’s one of my favorites. I’ve met quite a few clabberts, but Felix is something else. He’s good company.”

“Do you—well, do you ever need help with the creatures?” Mike asked, looking a little nervous.

Fitz was taken aback. Normally if a student showed this much interest, they were NEWT level, not third years. “Sometimes! I’ll tell you what, how about you help me take Felix back to the menagerie after class?”

“That would be great!” said Mike, flashing an excited smile as he went back to observe Felix.

By the time class was over, Fitz had already called four students the wrong name. Luckily they just laughed at him rather than taking it personally, but Fitz was determined to get their names right by next class.

“All right, Felix,” said Fitz as he and Mike gently shooed the creature back into his crate, “In you go. And here, have a snack.” Fitz held out a large piece of fruit to Felix, who took it willingly with a loud slurp.

“Wow!” said Mike as he lifted his side of the crate. “Did you here that sound? Does he do anything dangerous? Does he breathe fire or let out huge claws or anything like that?”

 Fitz couldn’t help but chuckle. Felix was the complete opposite of dangerous. “No, no, he doesn’t do anything but climb, eat, and sleep, really. He likes to sit next to me while I study plan. Takes one of my books and pretends to read.”

Once they got to the menagerie, Fitz opened up the crate, and Felix slowly ambled out and climbed up a tree in the center of the room, where the ceiling opened up to let in natural light (and the winged animals). Fitz turned around to walk Mike back out to the castle, but when he did, Mike had already made his way deep into the menagerie.

“Um, Mike?” Fitz called out, walking towards the boy, “You better come back. Not everything in here is as docile as Felix.”

“Is that a tebo?” asked Mike, looking at the large, warthog-like creature with wonder.

“Yes, and you should step back from his cage immediately,” said Fitz in a stern voice, starting to get annoyed with Mike’s enthusiasm.

“Oh, he doesn’t look that bad,” said Mike, taking another step towards the tebo’s cage. “If he were really that bad, wouldn’t the cage bars be closer together?”

“Well, we don’t count on anyone getting within a foot of him,” Fitz answered quickly, starting to getting extremely nervous as he stepped closer to Mike in an effort to pull him away. “Now, Mike, I won’t tell you again, step back from Marcus. 

“Marcus? Now, that doesn’t sound like the name of a killer.”

Suddenly the tebo disappeared, and Fitz didn’t have time to explain what this meant. All Fitz could do was to step between Mike and Marcus to push Mike out of the way.

“What? He disappeared—“ Mike started, but before he could finish that sentence, Fitz let out a loud yell.

The tebo, Marcus, had gotten to Fitz’s arm when he became invisible (a habit of tebos), and reappeared only when blood was gushing down Fitz’s side. Marcus slunk back to the bed of hay in his cage with a snort.

Fitz took one look at his torn-open, bloody arm, and passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clabberts and tebos are both creatures found within Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. I made up Hogwarts having a full menagerie—makes sense to me, though. 
> 
> Mary Sue Poots (Skye) is a bit OOC, but I figured this would be orphanage era Skye, and maybe she was more mopey back then. 
> 
> I had envisioned Mack as the Hagrid parallel (because he’s huge and a sweetie and gets along well with Fitz), but my giftee has only seen season 1 so I went with Mike—going for a half-robot/half-giant parallel, but still a big softie like Hagrid.


	4. Chapter Three

**CHAPTER THREE**

_“’Oh no,’ said Hermione, stopping abruptly. ‘Turn back, turn back, I don’t want to talk to Moping Mary—‘_

_‘Who?’ said Harry as they backtracked quickly._

_‘She haunts one of the toilets in the girls’ bathroom on the first floor,’ said Hermione._

_‘She haunts a toilet?’_

_‘Yes. It’s been out-of-order all year because she keeps having tantrums and flooding the place.’”_

_\--Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_

_\---_

Simmons’ first day as matron started out quite pleasantly. She helped a handful of students with mild maladies and injuries before the first bell even rang. Her next patient came in during the first class period, and looked so morose that Simmons feared she might have something serious. On further prodding, though, it turned out to be only a cold.

“It’s the first day, and already I’ve been sent to the hospital wing,” said the girl, Mary Sue Poots, with a melancholy sign as she sipped Jemma’s Pepper Up potion. “I bet my teacher was in cahoots with that Hornby girl to get rid of me. Everyone wants to get rid of me.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true,” said Simmons, checking Mary Sue’s glass to make sure she hadn’t taken too much. “All the teachers here are very honorable—I don’t think any of them would try to get rid of you. What class were you in?" 

“Care of Magical Creatures,” Mary Sue answered.

“Professor Fitz’s class?” asked Simmons in surprise. “Well, I know he wouldn’t shoo you away on purpose—he just wants you to feel better.”

“Perhaps. It’s that terrible Lorelei Hornby—she told me my glasses looked like a clabbert’s eyes.”

“Oh, your glasses look nothing of the sort,” scoffed Simmons, cleaning up Mary Sue’s empty potion bottle. “Lorelei Hornby sounds plain rude.”

“That’s what Professor Fitz said,” moped Mary Sue. “If only I were older. He might like me then.”

Jemma could only look at Mary Sue with wide eyes.

“Everything lovely happens to older people,” Mary Sue sapped on. “If I were older, I’d figure out a way to get rid of these glasses. Then perhaps boys would notice me. Professor Fitz does have such a nice face...”

Jemma could feel a blush rising in her cheeks as she realized her and a thirteen-year-old girl were having the same thoughts. “Well, Mary Sue,” said Simmons, after clearing her throat loudly, “I think it’s about time you get off to your next class. The Pepper Up potion should be doing its job now.” 

Mary Sue looked quite offended at Jemma’s sudden dismissal. “Well,” she said, throwing her book bag around her shoulder dramatically, “if _you’d_ rather have him then.” She marched out of the Hospital Wing with her chin up, and Jemma was glad, at least, to turn Mary Sue from moping to confidently dramatic, albeit at Jemma’s own expense.

She turned back file the necessary paperwork for administering a Pepper Up potion, when suddenly the door to the Hospital Wing burst open.

A very tall boy stood carrying a limp, bloody, and apparently completely unconscious Fitz. “Madam Simmons,” the boy stammered, “he—well, it’s my fault—he got bit by a tebo.”

“A tebo? We have tebos on this campus?” Simmons asked, directing the boy to the nearest bed.

“Just one,” said the boy, who looked like he was about to throw up. “It really was my fault. Professor Fitz told me not to go near Marcus, but I didn’t believe that he would attack anyone.”

“Well, I’m sure Professor Fitz will accept your apology in due time, but I need to start work on his arm—what’s your name?”

“Mike—Mike Peterson,” he answered, eyeing Fitz worriedly.

“Thank you for bringing him, Mike,” said Jemma, giving his shoulder a squeeze and walking him out of the Hospital Wing.

Jemma hurried over to her supply room, grabbing a pain-reducing potion, bandages, and Skele-Gro (just in case). Fitz was still very much unconscious when Jemma returned to his bed, so she ran back to grab a very strong and unpleasant smelling potion.

He woke with a start after she placed a handkerchief of the stuff under his nose, sitting up straight, then immediately wincing in pain. He looked around for a moment, then found Jemma with his eyes wide and confused.

“You passed out, Fitz,” Jemma said calmly, “and now you’re in the hospital wing. You got bit by a tebo, remember?”

Fitz nodded without taking his eyes off of her, perhaps trying to not look at his wound, but unnerving Jemma slightly the intensity of his gaze.

“Here’s a potion for the pain—it may make you feel a little drowsy,” she said as she handed him a small bottle. It became clear in a moment, however, that he was too dazed to take it. After opening up the bottle, Jemma poured the contents into his mouth, keeping him steady with her hand at the back of his head.

After a few minutes, the pain potion had done its work, and Fitz’s was slumped over into the pillows as Jemma worked on Fitz’s arm. She had only seen pictures of tebos in her Care of Magical Creatures textbook, but remembered the sharp teeth and claws. Luckily, Fitz’s wound was not too deep, just deep enough to cause the bleeding.

When his arm was bandaged up properly, he started to stir. He looked extremely confused once again, as if he had forgotten where he was.

“Fitz,” said Jemma, walking back over to his bedside from her desk, “are you all right? Any pain?”

Fitz gaped at her for a second before closing his mouth. He looked down at his bandaged arm, then back up at Jemma. “Kids….kids. They’re all terrible.”

Jemma chuckled, noting that the pain potion was still in affect. “Come on, now, Fitz. Mike seemed very distraught when he brought you over here.”

“He—he carried me?” Fitz asked with narrowed eyes. 

“Yes,” answered Jemma, double-checking the adhesive on the bandages. “He’s rather tall for his age.”

Fitz rested his head back into the covers, looking defeated.

“Something wrong, Fitz?” Jemma asked, eyeing him with concern.

“Oh, you know,” he responded, “just getting used to the fact that a thirteen-year-old boy is taller and stronger than me.”

“Fitz, please. Don’t be ridiculous. Mike is much taller than the average student.” She measured out another dose of the pain potion, just in case he needed it. “And really, you have nothing to worry about. Your size suits you.”

Jemma let the words slip out without really thinking, and felt her cheeks redden when she realized what she said.

“You—you think so?” ask Fitz, looking at her with wide eyes, which were very glassy from the pain potion.

“Sure, Fitz,” she answered, trying not to sound to eager but remain truthful. She gave him an encouraging smile.

“Your smile is so pretty,” said Fitz. He gazed at her for a moment before suddenly realizing what he just said. “I mean, no, well—yes, it’s—it’s nice, but I shouldn’t have said that…” He closed his eyes tight, as if willing the situation to dissolve.

Jemma found herself smiling widely at his little confession. “Let’s just say it was the potion talking.”

He let out a sigh and smiled back at her. “Thanks. God, I’ve embarrassed myself quite a bit today, haven’t I? First spilling your pumpkin juice, getting bit by a tebo, rattling off while on pain potion…” 

“It wouldn’t be the first day of classes if you didn’t have an embarrassing moment,” Jemma added.

“That’s true. I can remember a lot of embarrassing first days of school—it’s a good thing you didn’t know me that well back then.”

“Oh, I had my fair share, as well,” Jemma answered, settling in to the chair next to Fitz’s bed. “In my third year, I went the whole day with an ink blot on my forehead in the shape of—well, something I’d rather not mention, but brought plenty of sniggers from the immature—including a few teachers.”

“That is bad, when the teachers are in on it. You know this morning, when I mentioned that I got messed with on my first day teaching? It wasn’t by the students.”

“No!” Jemma exclaimed, shocked that the teachers would act anything but professional. “What did they do?”

“I feel asleep in the staff room,” said Fitz, slowly becoming more lucid. “I had stayed up all night before trying to plan the perfect lesson, and when I woke up after my staff-room nap, there was shaving cream all over my face.”

A snort escaped Jemma before she could stop it. “I’m—I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh." 

“No, you definitely should laugh,” said Fitz.

“Well, you seem to be feeling better,” Jemma said, smiling at him, and after an awkward pause, cleared her throat and checked on his bandages. “Your wound should be healed in about 24 hours…”

“Okay, do I need to stay under your watch for that long?” Fitz asked, looking a little hopeful.

“No, no—you can stay as long as you’d like, but there’s no need, really, now that the pain and bleeding are under control.” 

“Right. Well—thanks for patching me up. I don’t want to keep you from your work—I should go.”

Fitz got up to leave and stumbled slightly, leaving Jemma no choice but to hold his arms to steady him. She noticed a blush run up his cheeks as he mumbled a thank you and goodbye, almost tripping again as he walked out the door.

Jemma stood staring at the door for a long time, trying to figure out why she felt so light headed when knowing the answer all along. Her little crush from Potions class was resurfacing, and if she were to spend any more time with Leo Fitz, it might turn into more than that.


	5. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

_“’I know who you are!’ said Ron suddenly. ‘My brothers told me about you—you’re Nearly Eyeless Nick!’_

_‘I would_ prefer _you to call me Sir Nicholas Joseph Fu—‘ the ghost began stiffly, but sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted._

 _’_ Nearly _Eyeless? How can you be nearly eyeless?’_

_Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their chat wasn’t going at all the way he wanted._

_‘Like_ this _,’ he said irritably. He seized his eye patch and pulled. The eye beneath it fell out, dangling at the end of a small bit of sinew.”_

_-Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone_

_\---_

 

For the rest of the day, Fitz couldn’t decide if he was totally embarrassed by the morning’s proceedings or if he was the luckiest man in the world to have been attacked by Marcus. He knew it wasn’t professional to continue thinking about Simmons, but it was very difficult to stop thinking about her once he started, especially after she nursed him back to health.

Fitz was also quite impressed with himself for having multiple conversations with Simmons that didn’t end in her thinking him a fool. She still seemed to want to talk to him. It was this that made him want to see more of her, and he spent a good deal of time that day devising how he might do just that.

He thought about various excuses to pop into the hospital wing and say hello, but none of them made any sense. He had even considered stopping by Marcus’ cage for another bite, recognizing immediately, of course, that the thought was ridiculous.

Luckily that evening his bandages had become undone (after playing with the Hippogriffs), and while the wound was mostly healed, he thought it best to double check if he needed new ones.

The corridors were already empty, as it was well past student curfew. Fitz only passed the occasional teacher heading out from the staff room. When he rounded the corner near the Great Hall, however, someone caught his eye.

A student, who he recognized as Grant Ward, was walking along the shadows near the girls’ bathroom.

“What on earth?” Fitz mumbled to himself, getting ready to put on his best  ‘intimidating teacher’ voice. “Hey you!” he called out.

The boy stopped in his tracks, and turned around to Fitz with a look of mild curiosity. “Is something wrong professor?”

“Yes, something’s wrong, Mr. Ward,” said Fitz, throwing up his hands in exasperation. “It’s eleven o’clock at night! What on earth are you doing out of bed?”

“Professor Hall was helping me with some astronomy work,” Ward answered coolly. “He left a piece of equipment in his office and asked me to get it. Here’s a note from him—his office is just around the corner.”

“Yeah, I know that,” said Fitz, grabbing the note and eyeing it skeptically. It looked legitimate, but something still felt off. “I’ll be double-checking with him in the morning.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Wait!” Fitz had an idea that could poke a hole in Ward’s story, and quickly walked over to the nearest window, looking up at the evening sky. Fitz sore loudly as he saw that it was a clear as anyone would expect on an observation night.

“Er…” Fitz knew he looked like an idiot, and decided it was best to get out of the situation as quickly as possible. “Just, hurry along,” he said quickly.

“Goodnight, sir,” Ward said, nodding slightly and walking back into the shadows that lead to Professor Hall’s office.

“Pompous git,” Fitz mumbled to himself, looking down to check his watch. It was perhaps a little too late to give Simmons call, and his wound looked like it was almost done healing. “Damn,” he said to himself, wincing at the fact that he wanted to be more injured than he was.

He turned to go back to his quarters, when he saw a familiar face. Nearly Eyeless Nick, the tall, dark, almost one-eyed ghost of Gryffindor tower, was floating calmly through the corridor.

“Hey, Nick!” Fitz called, taking a few quick strides to meet up with the ghost.

“Fitz,” Nick said, turning around to meet him. “What are you doing up this late?”

“Oh, just going for a walk,” Fitz lied for the sake of brevity. “How about you?”

“I’ve been telling all the ghosts about my Deathday party next month,” Nick answered, adjusting his eye-patch. “Hopefully by then I’ll hear back from those stupid-ass officials at the Eyeless Hunt—see if I’ve been accepted this time around.”

“Eyeless Hunt?” Fitz asked.

“It’s an exclusive group for ghosts who have lost eyes, and they keep denying me, even though my eye is barely attached,” he said, rolling his one visible eye. “Damn people don’t know what they’re talking about.”

“That’s too bad, Nick.”

“You should come to my Deathday party—it’ll be on Halloween. Bring a lady friend.”

“Oh!” Fitz was quite surprised by the offer, and even more surprised at the invitation to bring a ‘lady friend.’ “Well, I don’t have a lot of ‘lady friends’ to ask, but I can try to make it.” 

“What about that new matron?” Nick asked. “Wasn’t she at school with you?”

For a moment, Fitz could only gape at him. “Yeah, yeah I’ll look into that.”

“Great—see you, and maybe her, on Halloween.” And with that, Nick turned and continued floating down the hall.

Fitz slowly ambled back to his room, shuffling his feet as he walked. He was by no means required to ask Simmons to go with him to the Deathday party, but if he showed up alone, Nick was sure to notice and ask him awkward questions. It would be nice if he could go with her, and the thought of it brought a smile to Fitz’s face, yet he was absolutely terrified to ask her. If he was going to, he had over a month to do it. _If that’s not enough time to build up the courage, I’m hopeless,_ thought Fitz.

 

* * *

 

Ward waited silently in the corridor shadows for Fitz and Nick to leave. After the hall had been clear for a while, he walked into the girls’ bathroom.

From the information he had gathered from old accounts, documents, books, and a bit of experimental dark magic, if there were going to be an entrance to Slytherin’s chamber, it would be near this very place.

Once inside the bathroom, Ward pulled out of his robes a small garden snake, subdued under the Imperius Curse. He then took out his wand and worked a complicated spell, forcing the snake to seek out similar company. It was a bit of a stretch, but Ward had a gut feeling that the creature within the chamber would be something akin to a snake.

The garden snake slithered on the floor for a moment, before climbing up one of the taps and sliding down the drain. On further inspection of the tap, Ward noticed a small serpent engraved into the handle. _This is it,_ he thought to himself, taking a deep breath before commanding the tap to open in Parseltongue.

The tap sank into the ground, revealing a large tunnel going deep into the earth. Ward took one more look around his shoulder, making sure the bathroom door was locked, and jumped into the depths of the chamber.


	6. Chapter Five

**CHAPTER FIVE**

_“’I bet Coulson saw right through you,’ said Harry, his teeth gritted._

_‘Well, he certainly kept an annoyingly close watch on me after Peterson was expelled,’ said Ward carelessly.”_

_-Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_

_\---_

The weeks went by and Jemma settled into her routine at Hogwarts nicely. Unless she had a patient to take care of, she almost always met Fitz for breakfast in the Great Hall. At first, they had met on accident, Jemma showing up as Fitz has just started his breakfast and asking if she could join. Eventually, it became a morning routine. Jemma would arrive about 5 minutes after Fitz, ask if she could join him, and he would tell her about the latest headlines in _The Daily Prophet._

On Sundays, she had the day off, as a Healer-in-Training would come from St. Mungo’s to relieve her. She had spent these days either wandering around Hogsmeade or the Hogwarts grounds, not necessarily looking for Fitz, but always pleased when she ran into him.

On that particular Sunday, a beautiful early October day, Jemma had taken her latest edition of the _St. Mungo’s Journal of Magical Maladies_ to the grounds and found a sunny spot to read.

“Mind if I join you?” came a voice from behind her shoulder, Jemma immediately recognizing it as Fitz’s.

“Not at all!” she said brightly, scooting over on her blanket so that he could have room to sit. He also had a stack of reading with him, and a sack that most likely had food in it (Jemma had learned early on the Fitz was an avid eater).

“You have any exciting happenings in the Hospital Wing since Friday morning?” Fitz asked, taking a large sandwich out of his bag and offering her half.

“Oh, thank you!” she said, taking the sandwich. “No, nothing interesting. Just a few colds. That poor Mary Sue Poots keeps on coming in—she must be under a lot of stress or something.”

“Yeah, the kids in class give her a hard time, and she seems to be particularly prone to dramatics, so even when things calm down, she still finds ways to be upset.”

“I’m glad I’m not the only one to think that,” said Jemma, now taking a piece of fruit that Fitz handed her. “I felt bad for not taking her seriously, but sometimes she’s a bit much.”

“That’s an understatement,” said Fitz flatly, digging around in his bag for more food.

“Did you magic that bag to hold more food than to be expected, or did you just pack it that full?”

“Ha ha,” he said sarcastically. “Last time I offer you any snacks.”

Jemma laughed and playfully shoved him with her elbow. When he did the same back to her, Jemma’s stomach tightened and blush ran up her cheeks. Fitz looked at her for moment, confusion lining his face.

“Everything all right, Fitz?” Jemma asked, taking a nonchalant bite of her apple.

“Em… Well, yes, everything’s fine. Yeah, yeah, it’s okay,” he said, clearly flusterd.

“Did I say something to upset you?” she asked.

“No! No, not at all,” he answered. He took a deep breath and continued, “So, a few weeks ago, Nick asked if I wanted to go to his Deathday party on Halloween, and he said I could bring someone, and, well, I thought—would you like to go with me?”

He was as red as the apple in Jemma’s hand, and seemed to be holding his breath.

Jemma smiled widely, and when she did, Fitz starting breathing properly again.

“That would be lovely, Fitz,” she said, admiring the grin that started to grow across his face. “I’ll see if I can arrange to have Akela from St. Mungo’s come for the evening—just in case there are patients in the Hospital Wing.”

“Oh, right—patients! I nearly forgot about those, sorry, I—“

“—Don’t worry about it! I’m sure it’ll all work out nicely.” They smiled awkwardly at each other for a moment, before Jemma continued, “Wow, a Deathday party! That’ll be fascinating! Do you know what one wears to a Deathday party?”

“I have no idea,” Fitz said through a laugh. “I’d say some dress robes, but these people have been around for centuries. Maybe something Medieval.”

Jemma giggled at the thought of Fitz dressed up like Nearly Eyeless Nick, but their laughter died down as a silvery panther-like creature came pounding towards them.

“That’s Professor May’s patronus,” said Fitz, standing up to get a better look at it.

Sure enough, Professor May’s voice came from the silvery creature. “Madam Simmons, a student has been attacked. You’re needed in the Hospital Wing.” The figure disappeared as soon as it had finished speaking, vanishing into the air.

“Goodness!” said Simmons, standing up immediately and a reaching for her books.

“Don’t worry about those,” said Fitz, taking the books from her hands, “I’ll bring them to you later. You just worry about getting to the Hospital Wing.”

“Thank you!” said Simmons, giving Fitz a quick squeeze of his hand before running off to the Hospital Wing.

When she arrived, a group of staff was huddled around one of the beds while the Healer-in-Training, Akela, rushed towards Simmons.

“I don’t think there’s anything we can do,” she said all in one breath. “The student—she’s petrified.”

The group that huddled around the bed separated, revealing a small girl, a first-year by the looks of her, lying still as a statue with a shocked expression on her face. “Petrified?” Jemma mouthed. “What could have done this? What is there inside the grounds that could do something like this?”

She looked to Headmistress Hill, who shook her head.

“I don’t know, Madam Simmons,” she said. “But I can assure you we will find out.”

“I’ll tend to the Mandrakes,” said Professor Weaver, “and make sure they reach maturity.”

“Thank god we keep those here,” Jemma said, letting out the breath she was holding.

“I’ll visit the girl’s parents,” said Hill. “She’s Muggle-born, so the situation will need more explanation.” 

All of the staff members turned to leave, except Professor Coulson, who hung back, waiting until everyone had left before leaning over to Jemma.

“I doubt there’s anything dangerous enough in Fitz’s menagerie to do this sort of damage,” he said, looking between Jemma and Akela. “There is a legend, about a chamber and a beast…and the fact that she’s Muggle-born…" 

He seemed to be talking to himself more so than to Jemma or Akela, and after he trailed off, he slowly walked out of the room.

“What on earth was that about?” said Akela, walking back over to the petrified girl.

“I have no idea,” said Jemma.

 

* * *

 

Professor Coulson walked into his first class of the day, distracted and tired from researching all through the night. The class seemed restless, whispering no doubt about the student who had been petrified.

“Okay, class,” called out Coulson, “quite down, we’ve got a lot to cover today.”

“But sir!” a student from the front row piped up, “we’ve heard so many rumors—you have to tell us what happened!”

“I don’t have to tell you anything, Trip,” said Coulson, taking out his wand and putting up the day’s notes on the chalkboard. 

“But sir,” Trip continued, “I heard that Donnie Gill talking about a secret chamber—something about Salazar Slytherin and a vendetta against Muggle-borns—“

“—We don’t know that the Chamber of Secrets exists,” Coulson answered, realizing too late that he gave away an official name for the legend.

“That’s what he called it! The Chamber of Secrets! So is it real?” Trip pressed.

“There’s no proof,” Coulson said simply. “Now, no more questions.”

“Sir,” came the voice of Grant Ward, “I just wanted to ask—if the attack yesterday were to be the actions of a beast with a vendetta against Muggle-borns, why would the creature only attack one student out of hundreds? Seems there has to be some other explanation.”

Coulson narrowed his eyes on Ward. “That’s a fair point, Ward, although one could also make the assumption that whoever is controlling the beast doesn’t want to be found out, and is taking the necessary precautions.”

Ward’s face fell momentarily, but in a flesh his regular look of mild interest returned. “Well, let’s hope Hogwarts has the resources to find whoever or whatever was behind the attack.”

“Yes,” said Coulson, still eyeing Ward warily, “let’s certainly hope so.”


	7. Chapter Six

**CHAPTER SIX**

_“The ghost leapt down, lifted his eye high in the air so he could see over the crowd (everyone laughed), and strode over to Nearly Eyeless Nick, squashing his eye back into its socket._

_‘Nick!’ he roared. ‘How are you? Eye still hanging in there?’”_

_-Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_

_\---_

 

Fitz woke up on the morning of Halloween feeling nauseous. He kept trying to tell himself that he had nothing to worry about—taking Simmons to the Deathday party wasn’t a particularly romantic excursion—yet he couldn’t shake the nerves that were making his stomach churn.

It didn’t help that he had barely seen Simmons over the past couple weeks. She had been very busy assisting Agent Weaver with the Mandrakes, and with the dip in temperatures recently, more and more students were getting sick.

He ate breakfast by himself that morning, doing research for Hill and Coulson on magical creatures capable of petrifying. But it all seemed pointless—unless there was a monstrous beast in the bowels of the castle, there was no way any creature at Hogwarts could have been behind the attack.

As Fitz made his way over to the Hippogriff paddock (the day’s subject for the third years), he noticed something odd about the chicken coop. The doors were slightly ajar and stray feathers were floating about—not a sight Fitz expected to see when the temperature was dropping. He walked into the enclosure slowly, knowing that many of the chickens were extremely temperamental, when he saw them: the roosters, all three of them, were in a bloody heap underneath the coop.

He cleaned up the area quickly, burying the dead roosters and sending a note to the gamekeeper.  It didn’t make any sense, Fitz thought, as he made his way back towards the Hippogriffs. Any animal that would attack the chickens or roosters wouldn’t have just killed them—they would have at least eaten some of them, not left them in a neat pile. It almost seemed as if a person had done it.

In class that day, Fitz was completely distracted. He barely noticed that Lorelei Hornby was once again teasing Mary Sue, equating her to a Hippogriff somehow (Fitz was not entirely sure how this was meant to be an insult), but the promise of detention and ten points from Ravenclaw shut Lorelei up quickly.

Mike also seemed a bit distracted in that day’s class. He normally asked numerous questions about the animals in class, but all he kept doing was peering into his book bag. If Fitz didn’t know any better, he would say that Mike must be keeping a small pet inside that bag, but Mike didn’t seem the type to keep a rat or a kitten, so Fitz shrugged it off as just a bad day for all of them.

The day didn’t get any better after that. Stan, the old gamekeeper, was unusually surely as they investigated the chicken coop for signs of an intruder, and, not once, but thrice, did Fitz spill tea on himself throughout the course of the day.

As Fitz put on his dress robes for the party, he felt utterly spent. Surprisingly, he didn’t feel nervous anymore, just frustrated and tired. He had meant to get Simmons a handful of flowers from the garden, but had completely forgotten them.

He tried to snap himself out of his bad mood as he walked up to Simmons’ door, shaking his head back and forth as if trying to shake away his day. He knocked on the door quickly, cursing himself for being in a bad mood for this day of all days, and after a moment, the door opened.

Simmons, wearing a simple but elegant Muggle dress, beamed at him as she stood in the doorframe. “Fitz!” she said happily, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around him in a quick hug. “It’s been far too long since we’ve seen each other! I’m very glad that you asked me to go to this, because I don’t know if I would have seen you for weeks otherwise!”

 Fitz beamed at her. “Yeah, I’m glad to see you, too,” he said, looking her over and realizing with a dull pang in his chest that he had missed her terribly.

“I know it’s only been a few weeks,” said Simmons, looping her arm through Fitz’s as they began to walk, “but we have to catch up! How have you been?”

“Busy,” Fitz said, a little overwhelmed that she was so excited to see him. “Probably not as busy as you, but doing some research for Coulson, classes… and all the usual things.”

“What about things with Stan? Are you doing all his work now?” she asked, giving his arm an affectionate squeeze.

“Yeah, and he’s getting to be incredibly grumpy. He really needs to just retire. Today he was particularly bad—it was just a bad day in general, actually,” Fitz said, letting out a sigh and marveling at how wonderful it felt to talk to Simmons.

“Well that doesn’t sound good. I’ll have to cheer you up somehow,” she said, looking at him with eyes full of kindness.

“I think you already are,” said Fitz, and he noticed Simmons’ cheeks reddening as she smiled and looked at her feet.

When they arrived at the dungeon where the party was being held, both Fitz and Simmons’ jaws dropped. 

“Have you ever seen so many ghosts all in one place?” Simmons whispered in his ear.

“Never,” responded Fitz, completely shocked at the sheer amount of silvery people (and a few animals) filling the place.

They walked further into the room, getting a few odd looks from the deceased attendants of the party. “Oh dear,” said Simmons with wide eyes, looking in the direction of the food table.

Fitz looked on, and immediately covered his mouth so as to not gag. The entire table was filled with completely rotted and rancid food, which the occasional ghost would pass through a comment about the food as if they had tasted it.

“What kind of party is this?” Fitz whispered to Simmons, trying his best to not throw up.

“Definitely not a party made for the living,” said Simmons, looking equally pale and queasy.

They ambled about the party awkwardly, trying to enjoy the melancholy music, yet find it more and more depressing. Finally they spotted Nearly Eyeless Nick gliding towards them.

“Fitz!” he called, looking rather pleased with himself for how well the party was going. “Good to see you—and this must be Madam Simmons?” He gave Fitz a rather noticeable wink, which Fitz ignored.

“Yes, Nick, this is Jemma Simmons, school matron,” said Fitz said, hoping Simmons didn’t notice the wink.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” said Simmons, bowing her head in lieu of shaking Nick’s hand. “This is a lovely party!”

Fitz could see right through the lie that Simmons just told, but Nick didn’t seem to notice. In fact, he seemed thoroughly distracted. 

“Hold on,” he said, eyeing a new group of ghosts who had just arrived. “That’s the Eyeless Hunt council who just came in—they’re supposed to give me an answer tonight—let’s hope those fools made the right decision to let me in!”

And with that, Nick floated away, leaving Fitz and Simmons to do nothing but listen to the terrible music and breath through their mouths.

Fitz had an idea, though. “Well, now that we’ve said ‘hi’ to Nick, what do you say we get out of here? Maybe grab a drink at the Three Broomsticks?” asked Fitz, his stomach clenching in nerves as he awaited her answer.

He was immediately relieved when a smile stretch across her face. “I thought you would never ask,” she said, taking his hand and leading them both out of the dungeon.

Fitz was trying to keep his breathing steady as she wrapped her fingers around his hand, when Koenig, the school poltergeist, bounced merrily in front of them.

“Oooo, Fitzy Witzy and Simsy Wimsy, holding handsies and making lovesies,” he sang at them.

Fitz once again had the urge to vomit, but it had nothing to do with the smell of rancid food.

Luckily, Simmons took charge of the situation. “Koenig, don’t make me go get Terrible Talbot.”

Koenig flashed a look of terror on his face, before bouncing out of the way with one last rhyme, “Ooo, Simsy Wimsy is a little grimsy!”

Simmons rolled her eyes, and led Fitz out of the dungeon.

 

* * *

 

 

The Three Broomsticks was crowed with villagers, as to be expected on Halloween, but Fitz and Simmons managed to find a cozy nook by the fireplace, where Jemma waited while Fitz had gone to get drinks from the bar.

She was quite pleased with the way the evening was going. While there were moments of awkwardness here and there (like Koenig mentioning “making lovesies”; a thought that immediately brought a blush to Jemma’s cheeks), overall Jemma was amazed at how easy it was to be around Fitz.

He returned soon with two mugs of butter beer and firewhiskey, one of Jemma’s favorite combinations. “I much prefer it here as opposed to that dungeon,” said Fitz, scooting into the booth they were sharing.

“Yes, I’m glad I got to see what it was like,” said Jemma, taking a sip of her drink and enjoying the resulting warmth, “but it’s not something to stick around for.”

“Right,” said Fitz, taking a sip of his drink as well. “So we never talked about how your last couple weeks have been—any progress with the Mandrakes?”

“Yes! They’re almost to adolescence, so not too long before they are ready,” she said. “But I have been spending far too much time in the Hospital Wing. All these colds, and that poor petrified girl, always staring at me, still as a statue. It’s nice to be out of there, if only for one night.”

“Glad I could help,” said Fitz with a small smile. He very hesitantly took Simmons hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Warmth spread through Jemma as his hand touched hers, and she hoped he wouldn’t let go of it anytime soon. She squeezed his hand back as a sign that she was enjoying the contact, and they sat quietly for a moment.

“So, Simmons—,” Fitz said, breaking the silence.

“—You can call me Jemma if you’d like,” she interrupted, hoping she didn’t sound too forward.

“Okay, Jemma,” Fitz said with a smile, as if he liked the way her name sounded on his lips. “I’d say you could call me ‘Leo’, but that’s what my mum calls me when she’s cross with me.”

“Well then,” Jemma said, laughing, “I’ll only call you ‘Leo’ if I am very, very cross with you.”

Fitz snorted while sipping his drink. “And what would make you cross with me?” he teased.

“Hmmm,” she said, thinking out loud, “perhaps letting another two weeks go by without visiting me in the Hospital Wing.”

“Oh!” he said, looking worried. “I didn’t know if you wanted me to interrupt your work, I’m sorry—“

“It’s okay, Fitz!” Jemma said, giving his hand another squeeze. “I was only teasing, although you are more than welcome to call on me.”

“Good,” said Fitz with a grin, “and you are more than welcome to call on me.”

“Deal.”

Once again they sat in silence for a little while, sipping their drinks and watching the bar customers become more and more sloppy.

“Fitz, weren’t you saying something earlier?” Jemma said, remembering that she had interrupted him.

“Oh, right,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Well, I have a bit of a confession to make.”

“A confession?” asked Jemma, thoroughly intrigued. 

“Yeah, you see, back when we were at school,” he started, and Jemma could already see red covering his cheeks, “I, em—I know we didn’t talk that much, but I had a bit of a crush on you.”

Jemma did not think that her smile could get any wider. “Did you, now?”

“Yeah,” he said, letting out a breath as he saw her smiling. “Yeah, I did.”

“Well, that’s convenient, because I had a bit of a crush on you as well.” Jemma looked at him with a smirk, waiting for his reaction. 

His grin became impossibly wide as well, chuckling a bit as he took another sip of his drink. “We’re quite the pair aren’t we? Both having crushes and barely saying a word to each other.”

Jemma laughed, remembering how brief and rushed all of their interactions were during school. “Well, we’re talking now. That’s a start.”

“Yeah, we’re talking quite a bit, I’d say.”

She had to bite her lip in order to keep her grin from becoming embarrassingly large. “Indeed we are Fitz, indeed we are.”


	8. Chapter Seven

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

_“’All right, Harry? Mike said, pulling up the balaclava so he could speak. ‘Why aren’t you in class?’_

_‘Canceled,’ said Harry, getting up. ‘What’re you doing in here?’_

_Mike held up the limp rooster._

_‘Second one killed this term.”_

_-Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_

_\---_

 

Throughout the weeks leading up to Christmas, Fitz felt as if he were walking on air. While he and Jemma were still incredibly busy, they had managed to see each other almost everyday since Halloween. Fitz would often come by the Hospital Wing and keep Jemma company, and she would often come by the menagerie or the library to share a quick moment with him.

Because of their time constraints, and the fact that there were always students running about, their relationship had not progressed much further beyond the chaste kiss Fitz and given Jemma after their evening at the pub. Fitz wasn’t too concerned about this, though, knowing that the winter holiday would provide them with more time and privacy to move things along.

On one of the last days before most of the students left for the Christmas Holiday, Fitz was helping Professor Coulson do more research on who or what could have petrified the little girl. Fitz was getting frustrated with all the research—it still seemed to be getting them nowhere.

“With all due respect, Coulson,” said Fitz, setting aside yet another book with no answers, “do you really think this is worth it? We have a running list of creatures and spells that could cause petrification—none of the creatures could fit within the walls of the castle, and the spells are so dark and complicated that we would have to have a seriously evil person in our midst. Do you think that’s possible? Wouldn’t it be better to investigate amongst the staff? Keep up our security? Keep who ever cast the spell out?”

“I know the staff here well, Fitz,” Coulson said with a sigh. “I just don’t see how it could be one of them.”

“But it could be one of these creatures? How do you figure that?”

“Hogwarts is a very old castle with lots of secrets—for all we know, there could be a secret chamber with a beast.”

Fitz looked at the floor beneath him, wondering if somewhere below the castle lurked Medusa the Gorgon, waiting to turn unsuspecting students into stone. “So you really think the legend could be true? That Salazar Slytherin kept a beast in a secret chamber to attack Muggle-borns?”

“He was a very powerful wizard,” said Coulson, standing up to pull another stack of books from the shelf. “It is certainly within the realm of possibility.”

“Headmistress Hill doesn’t seem to think so,” Fitz added, remembering her sour reaction to him telling her about the research they were conducting.

“No, she likes to see proof, and unfortunately we don’t have that. Have you and Simmons talked at all about it? Perhaps a Healer’s perspective would be helpful.”

“No,” said Fitz, shifting in his seat, “She seems just as perplexed as the rest of us.”

“Huh,” Coulson said thoughtfully, then looked at Fitz with a smirk. “How’s that going, by the way?”

Fitz eyes snapped up. “Em, what do you mean?”

“Come on, Fitz,” said Coulson, taking a sip of his tea. “I might not be young anymore, but I can spot flirting when I see it. You two seem to be spending a lot of time together.”

Fitz couldn’t help the smile that crept along his face as he thought about all their rendezvous. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

Before Coulson could reply, Stan walked over to them slowly, carry two limp roosters by the feet. “Found more of these damn birds dead. Someone is getting into my coop!”

The site of the dead roosters jogged something in Fitz brain. Instead of responding to Stan, he began to furiously flip through the pages in front of him.

Finally he found what he was looking for, and read the section aloud, _“…and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it."_

Fitz and Coulson stared at each. “How on earth could a Basilisk be roaming about the school?” Fitz asked.

“I have no idea,” said Coulson. The two of them sat in silence for while, trying to process the fact that they had most likely identified the creature behind the attack.

“Does nobody care about my roosters?” Stan asked, shaking the dead birds so that their feathers spread about the table of books.

Before either of them could respond, the library doors burst open, revealing a tense Professor May. She quickly made it to where Coulson and Fitz were sitting. “There’s been another attack—another Muggle-born,” she said quickly. “A staff member this time.”

Fitz felt his stomach drop. He didn’t know the blood-status of all the staff members, but he did know of one Muggle-born staff member. Jemma Simmons.

“Do you know who? Do you know if they were killed or petrified?” Coulson asked as he stood up.

“No, but we’re about to find out. You should come, too,” she added Fitz, who felt like he might’ve been petrified.

As they walked up to the doors of the Hospital Wing, Fitz was shaking so badly he had to shove his hands in his pockets. While Coulson opened the doors to the Hospital Wing, Fitz tried his best to mentally prepare for what could be the worst moment of his life.

He knees almost gave out as he was met with the most beautiful sight in the world: Jemma Simmons, alive and moving. She was walking about and checking the victim, Professor Hall, who appeared to be petrified, not dead.

When she noticed that Fitz had come into the room, she walked over to him. “Fitz, are you all right? You look like you’re in shock.”

His mouth was completely dry, so he quickly gave up on trying to find words. Instead he gently held Jemma’s arms, wanting so badly to wrap her up close to him, but also fully aware that the room was packed with his colleagues. He moved his thumbs over her shoulders gently, looking at her face and trying to memorize it, recognizing how lucky he was to be able to look at her now.

“I—I thought,” he stammered, swallowing hard in an attempt to dry his throat, “I thought it was you who’d been…” he trailed off and looked towards Professor Hall, lying still as a statute on the hospital bed.

Jemma looked from Professor Hall to Fitz, her face softening as she understood why he was acting so strangely. “I’m fine, Fitz,” she said, bring her hand up to gently cup his face. “Perfectly healthy.”

Fitz felt his eyes watering and throat tightening, and before he could stop himself, he wrapped his arms around her fully, not caring one bit that his boss and colleagues were looking. “God, I was so scared you were dead,” he whispered into her ear.

When he pulled back, he was surprised to see that she also looked a bit teary. She rubbed her eyes quickly, sniffling and pulling up here chest. “I need to get back over there,” she nodded to the patient, “but stick around.” She gave his hand a squeeze before heading back to Professor Hall.

Fitz sat back in a daze, registering vaguely that Coulson was explaining the basilisk theory to an unbelieving Headmistress Hill. “There’s no proof of that Chamber, Coulson,” she said fiercely. “When you find it, let me know.”

Eventually all the professors left, as there was nothing more they could do for the petrified man. Jemma finished up her paperwork, and walked slowly towards Fitz, who felt so drained from the ordeal, he had almost fallen asleep.

“I’m—I’m sorry you got so scared,” said Jemma, taking his hands in hers.

Fitz looked into her eyes, which were boring into his with so much intensity he could barely handle it. The day’s events had forced him to realize exactly how deep his feelings for Jemma were, and it terrified him.

“Jemma,” Fitz whispered, leaning his forehead against hers, “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Fitz could see the ends of her mouth turn up in a smile. “And I with you.”

“Really?” Fitz asked, pulling back so that he could see her face properly.

She nodded her head, giving him that brilliant smile of hers that he couldn’t get enough of.

Before he could convince himself not to, Fitz leaned forward, pressing his lips against Jemma’s. They seemed to melt together. Everything else in the world floated away except him and Jemma, who wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss and stepping as close as possible to him. 

Fitz lost track of time as they continued to kiss, only breaking every so often to sneak closer together or grin at each other. Before Fitz realized what was happening, Jemma had taken his hand and pulled him towards her quarters, which were adjacent to the Hospital Wing.

They soon fell on top of her bed, continuing to kiss while trying to touch every inch of the other person.

“Jemma?” he said breathlessly, giving short kisses all over her face.

“Yes, Fitz?” she said back, her voice deeper and huskier than normal.

“I—well—when I said that I thought I was falling in love with you—what I meant was—I’m already in love with you.”

“Oh, Fitz,” said Jemma, kissing him on his nose, his forehead, and where ever else she could reach, “I love you, too.”

It was very late in the evening when Fitz walked back to his quarters. Luckily he didn’t run into any one, but if he had, no doubt they would have commented on his ruffled hair, untucked shirt, and dopey grin.

 

* * *

Mike stepped nervously into the broom closet, making sure that one could be seen down the corridor. It was the Christmas Holiday, and students were few and far between, but there was still a chance of him being spotted.

“Aragog?” Mike whispered into the dimly lit closet, searching behind the mop buckets for his unusual friend.

There was a rustling noise behind him, and Mike turned around. Sure enough, Aragog, an adolescent acromantula with huge pincers and eight eyes, stepped out from behind the shelf. 

“There you are!” said Mike, stepping forward and giving Aragog a pat. “I wish I could let you out, Aragog, but with the recent attacks, everyone will think that it’s you!”

“I told you before,” the acromantula said in a raspy voice, “we spiders are not safe around such a creature. You must let me out. You must help me escape into the forest.”

“But I won’t get to see you!” protested Mike, flopping down onto the ground next to Aragog.

“I am grateful for your kindness, Mike, for keeping me, raising me—but it’s time for me to leave. I can’t stay in the castle—not while that horrible creature roams about.”

“How do you even know it’s here? No one has seen any creatures in the castle,” Mike said.

“We spiders can sense its presence. He lurks within the walls.”

Mike sighed heavily, knowing that any day now he was going to have to say goodbye to his friend. “I need to get back to Gryffindor Tower, but here,” Mike put out his hand, which held a small ring. “It belonged to my dad—I thought maybe you could have it, you know, for when you do leave. Something to remember me by.”

“But you’ve just lost him,” said the spider. “Are you really ready to give this up to a creature who can barely hold onto it?”

“I got that covered,” said Mike, as he tied the ring with a string across the belly of Aragog. “Just let me know if it gets too tight and I’ll adjust it.”

“Will you be around to do that?”

“Hopefully I’ll be able to find you—just don’t disappear completely. I’ll figure out an escape—it might take some time, though.”

Mike stood up to go, and, double-checking the corridor, stepped out of the broom closet, waving his wand to keep it locked.

“What are you doing up this late at night,” said a voice from behind Mike’s shoulder. Turning around, Mike saw one of the Slytherin prefects, Grant Ward, giving him a look of smug satisfaction. “It’s after curfew, you know. I could write you up to the teachers.”

“Oh, please don’t do that,” said Mike. “I was just, um, trying to get some privacy.”

“Privacy? It’s Christmas, the school is almost empty. You’re up to something. And don’t think I won’t find out.”

Mike shuddered as the older student gave him a look of loathing. “I’ll—I’ll keep to curfew.”

“You better,” said Ward flatly.

Mike turned to go, almost sprinting back to Gryffindor tower, hoping beyond hope that his lock charm kept on the broom closet door.


	9. Chapter Eight

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

_“’Listen,’ said Harry urgently, his knees sagging with Ginny’s dead weight. ‘We’ve got to go! If the basilisk comes—‘_

_‘It won’t come until it is called,’ said Ward calmly.”_

_-Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_

_\--_

Within a month after the Christmas Holiday, word had gotten out that the school matron and the Care of Magical Creatures professor were seeing each other. It only took one student (Mary Sue Poots, to be exact) seeing the two staff members kiss each other goodnight before everyone in the castle passed Jemma and Fitz with a wink or a snigger.

Yet not everyone was reacting positively to the news. Headmistress Hill looked thoroughly displeased when Koenig bobbed along in the Great Hall during breakfast, singing a new song of his:

 

_Oh, Simsy and Fitzy, they kiss in the dark,_

_They kiss in the closet and even the park,_

_It’s not hard to spy them, snogging at night,_

_And snogging and snogging ‘til morning’s first light!_

One the following cold, January morning, Hill called them into her office.

“Fitz. Simmons,” she said in a harsh voice. “What exactly is the nature of your relationship?”

“Em, well—you see—ah…” stammered Fitz, shaking under the gaze of Professor Hill.

“We’re romantically involved, Headmistress,” Jemma said bluntly, knowing it would be better to get it out in the open than try to hide it.

“And why exactly, did you think that to be an appropriate involvement?” Hill asked.

Jemma looked to Fitz, hoping he would be able to answer this time.

He looked back to Jemma with nothing short of terror in his eyes. When he turned back to Hill, he cast his eyes down immediately. “It’s really hard to not fall for someone once you’ve started, Professor Hill.”

Her eyebrows lifted towards her forehead. “So this is quite serious, is it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jemma answered. “It is.”

Hill let out an exasperated sigh. “Well, I guess all I can say is to keep things as professional as possible. Don’t give Koenig any more reason to embarrass you or distract the students.”

“Right,” said Fitz, looking utterly relieved.

“Of course, ma’am. That won’t happen again,” added Jemma.

As they walked out of the office, Fitz let out a slow whistle. “God, I thought we were done for.”

“Done for?” asked Jemma, amused. “What does being ‘done for’ entail?”

“Oh, you know: getting fired,” Fitz answered simply. “A price I’m willing to pay, though.”

Jemma gave his hand a squeeze, resisting the urge to kiss him in the open corridor. “As am I,” she added. “I guess this means we’ll have to keep out relationship behind closed doors.”

“Well, that’s not such a bad thing, is it?” Fitz teased with a grin on his face.

Jemma slapped his shoulder playfully, and then kept a safe distance away from him as they walked through the castle, keeping a wary eye out for Koenig.

 

* * *

 

The investigation of the attacks continued in full force, yet now that Simmons, Fitz, and Coulson were almost certain that a basilisk was hidden in the castle, they turned their attention to who might be letting it out.

Fitz and Simmons were tasked with looking for suspicious behavior in the Hogwarts students, while Coulson focused on Hogwarts history, to see if the Chamber of Secrets had ever been opened before.

The investigation kept them so busy, that Fitz’s and Simmons’ Valentine’s Day date consisted of a list of all the students at Hogwarts, their detailed records, and a bottle of wine.

“What about Lorelei Hornby?” Fitz asked, swishing the wine in his glass and watching it swirl. “Does she seem like a raged killer?”

“She seems like an arse, perhaps,” said Simmons. “But not a killer.”

“Okay, what about…” Fitz put down his wine as he flipped through the endless pages of student names and records. “What about ‘Antoine Tripplet?’”

“Oh, he’s been to see me a few times and he’s lovely,” she said. “If he’s letting a serpent out on the school, then I’m a flying monkey.”

“Flying monkey?” asked Fitz.

“Oh,” said Jemma with a chuckle, “that’s from a Muggle film. I’ll explain later. What about… Mike Peterson?”

“Mike?” Fitz thought for a second. “No way. He’s been acting weird lately, but who isn’t at that age?”

“Weird how?” Jemma asked tentatively, know Mike was one of Fitz’s favorite students. “It’s probably nothing, but we need to work through all the possibilities.”

Fitz sighed. “He’s just—I don’t know, been a bit more reclusive than when the school year started. Just seems to be hidden something. But his dad did pass away last year, and his mum’s been gone since before he can remember—he’s got a lot on his plate right now.”

“Sounds like it,” said Jemma, rubbing Fitz’s back. “What about… Grant Ward?”

“Ugh, I hate that kid.”

“Fitz!” scolded Jemma. “He’s a student! You can’t hate students!”

“No, but really, that kid is a pompous git. I’ve always thought he was hiding something—I caught him walking around the castle at night a few times. He always has a good excuse, but I’ve never really bought it.”

“Come to think of it,” said Jemma, remembering a conversation from the day before, “I don’t think Coulson likes him much either. Seems to think he’s up to something." 

“Well there you go,” said Fitz, polishing off his wine, “Grant Ward—prefect, and Heir of Salazar Slytherin.”

Jemma rolled her eyes. “We don’t know that for sure—just keep a wary eye out, is all.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ve been keeping an eye on that kid all year.”


	10. Chapter Nine

**CHAPTER NINE**

_“’Oh, it’s you,’ she said when she saw Harry. ‘What do you want this time?’_

_‘To ask you how you died,’ said Harry._

_Mary Sue’s whole aspect changed at once. She looked as though she had never been asked such a flattering question._

_‘Ooooh, it was dreadful…’”_

_-Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_

_\---_

“All right, all right,” Fitz called out to his class full of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw third years. “Listen up, exam are coming up—we’ll be in a room inside for the exam. If you have any questions about the material we’ve covered, now’s the time to ask.”

“I have a question, Professor Fitz,” called out Lorelei Hornby, nonchalantly raising her hand. “Will clabberts be on the final exam?”

“Yes, they will,” he answered. “You should be able to tell me key characteristics, natural habitat, what they eat, and so on.”

“Hear that, Mary Sue,” Lorelei chanted in a loud whisper, “you’re twin will be on the exam.”

“All right,” said Fitz, putting down his notebook forcefully, “that’s enough. You’re going straight to the Headmistress’ office this time. Now!”

Lorelei opened her mouth to protest, but thought better of it. Instead she held up her hands to her face, making her index finger and thumb into the shape glasses and sniggered at Mary Sue on her way to the castle.

As to be expected, Mary Sue began to sniffle, which soon escalated into loud wailing. Before Fitz could approach her, she had run off towards the Entrance Hall.

“Damn,” said Fitz, looking between Mary Sue’s disappearing figure and his full class and wondering if he should go after her. “Well, I think you get the idea with bowtruckles. Take the rest of the class period to go study for your finals.”

As the class happily sped off towards the castle, Fitz turned to go after Mary Sue, when Mike Peterson caught his eye. He looked more tired and stressed than ever, and Fitz knew he hadn’t been paying attention in class that day.

“Hey, Mike,” Fitz asked tentatively, “Are you doing okay? You seem a little distracted.”

Mike looked at his feet as he shuffled them, nervously fidgeting his hands before stuffing them in his pockets. “I—I’m—well, I’ve been better.”

“Does it—does it have something to do with your dad?” Fitz chanced, watching carefully for Mike’s reaction.

“No, no,” he said, shaking his head, “it’s nothing like that.”

“Mike, do you—“ Fitz said, and then paused, thinking carefully about how he wanted to phrase his word. “Do you know something? Something about what’s been going on with the attacks?”

“Look, I’ve got to go,” said Mike quickly, picking up his book bag, “See you for the exam, Professor Fitz.”

Fitz stood shocked at he watched Mike walk away, not wanting to believe that he could have something to do with a dangerous creature roaming about the castle.

 

* * *

 

Simmons had never seen the hospital wing so crowded. Student after student poured in, complaining of head colds, stomach bugs, and worse, two nasty cases of spattergroit.

“We’ve really got to look into some preventive measures during exam time,” Simmons muttered to Akela, who had signed up for extra training hours to help with the increased patient load.

“I hear you in that,” Akela responded. “I’m getting a little tired of treating colds. The spattergroit cases are exciting, though. I got to pop a pustule on that kid’s eye.”

“Good for you!” Simmons said with a laugh, walking back to very distraught fifth year.

“But Madam Simmons,” the boy said, “I’ve got my OWLS tomorrow and I don’t feel any better. What am I going to do?”

“You’re going to take this potion and then sleep all night long—let me know if you need a sleeping potion—“

Just then, the door burst open, revealing a pale and frantic Fitz.

“Jemma, you—you need to come with me,” he said in an urgent tone she hadn’t heard before.

“But what about my patients,” Simmons asked.

“I’ll take care of them,” Akela offered, taking the bottle of potion out of Simmons’ hands.

“Thank you.”

Once they were out of the wing, Fitz turned around to face her.

“Jemma, there’s been another attack,” he said, looking as if he was going to be sick.

“Another?” Jemma asked, shocked that one had happened after so much time passing. “Who? When? Were they petrified or—“

But the look on Fitz’s face gave Simmons the answer. “No…” Jemma breathed out, looking to Fitz and hoping he would correct her assumption. 

He looked at her with glassy eyes and let out an uneven breath. “It—it was Mary Sue.”


	11. Chapter Ten

**CHAPTER TEN**

_“’Ooooh, it was dreadful,’ she said with relish. ‘It happened right in here. I died in this very stall. I remember it so well. I’d hidden because Lorelei Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a boy speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then—‘ Mary Sue swelled importantly, her face shining. ‘I died.’”_

_-Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_

_\---_

 

Jemma sat at the staff room table, staring forward in utter shock at the words she was hearing. Not soon after Fitz had told Jemma the news, Headmistress Hill had pulled the staff and prefects together for an emergency meeting, in which the words “memorial service,” “school closure,” and “the girl’s guardians” kept surfacing, making Jemma wince every time.

“If the culprit behind the attacks is not caught within the week, Hogwarts will close and not open until we know the students to be safe,” said Hill in a low, strained voice. “Heads of Houses and prefects are to keep students in their common rooms when out of classes—professors will accompany students through the castle.”

As Hill went on, Jemma noticed Professor Coulson, looking deep in thought and staring ahead. She followed his line of sight, and found that he was watching one of the prefects, Grant Ward, with narrowed eyes.

She nudged Fitz with her elbow, nodding to Coulson. Fitz took a moment to understand, but soon saw what she saw.

After they were dismissed, Fitz pulled her to the side.

“What do you think that was about?” said Fitz, eyeing Coulson and Ward, who seemed to be having a conversation back in the staff room.

“I thought it was obvious—Coulson suspects him,” Jemma said, looking back at the staff room.

Fitz swallowed hard, and then looked at the ground.

“What is it, Fitz” Jemma asked.

He looked up, and pulled her further away from the staff room door. “There’s something that I haven’t told you,” he said in quick whisper. “Yesterday, in class, Mike, he—he seemed so out of it. Something was up with him, Jemma, and then the next day—“ He pinched the bridge of his nose, squinting his eyes tight shut as if squeezing the terrible truths of the day away from him. “—It can’t have been him. I know that. But maybe he knows something?”

“Maybe,” said Jemma, pulling Fitz into a hug. His arms wrapped around her tightly, and Jemma closed her eyes, savoring the one pleasant moment amongst the gloom. “Fitz,” she said, leaning back so she could look into his face, “if the school does close, we’ll be okay, right?”

A soft smile spread across Fitz’s face. “Of course, Jemma,” he said. “I’m in this for the long haul, you know that, right?”

“I had a feeling,” Jemma answered, “but it’s nice to know for sure.”

Once Jemma had returned to the hospital wing, most of the students were asleep. She went back to her office, collapsing into her chair with a _thump_ and covering her face with her hands.

“What a day,” she muttered to herself, “What a day, indeed…”

“You’re telling me,” came a familiar voice behind her. It sounded too familiar, too similar to—

“Mary Sue!” Jemma said in shock, falling out of her chair. Before her stood (or floated, rather) a pearly white figure in the shape and likeness of Mary Sue Poots, looking quite bored and yawning thickly.

“It’s me,” said Mary Sue with a smirk. “I’m glad to see that everyone is so upset. I was a little worried that you all would be relieved.”

“Oh, never! How could you think such a thing?” said Jemma, getting up from the floor and sitting back into her chair.

Mary Sue merely rolled her eyes. “Please, don’t try and tell me that anyone in this school liked me—I know you’re lying. But at least you hated me less than others.”

“Mary, I liked you very much—still do!” Jemma blinked. Growing up in the Muggle world she had never know anyone to die and become a ghost. It was a very strange thing, looking into the face of the girl who had just died.

“Whatever you say, Madam Simmons.” Mary Sue shrugged, floating around the room for a moment before turning back. “So do you want to hear about my death? It was dreadful,” she said with relish.

“I—um—“ Jemma stammered for a moment, than came to herself. “Yes! Yes I do! Do you know who killed you?”

“Well, I had hidden in the bathroom because Lorelei Hornby was teasing me about my glasses again. I was crying and sitting in one of the stalls, when I heard a boy’s voice say something funny, in a sort of made up language—but like I said, it was a _boy_ speaking, so I opened the stall to tell him to _go away_ , and then I died. 

“Just like that?” said Simmons. “You don’t remember feeling anything? Seeing anything?”

“No, just a big pair of yellow eyes.”

“A basilisk eyes…” Jemma said under her breath. And then she swore, earning a gleeful look from Mary Sue. “Sorry for that Mary Sue,” she added, “It’s just that, well, we still have no idea who is controlling the beast or where the beast is being kept. All we know is that they are a Parselmouth, which would be easy enough to guess, Heir of Slytherin and all...”

“And it’s a _boy,”_ said Mary Sue with disgust. “But enough about this boring ‘who done it’ talk—I have places to be.”

“Where are you going?” asked Simmons, standing up.

“Why, to go haunt Lorelei Hornby, of course.” And with that she floated out of the room, giggling to herself and leaving a cool breeze behind her.


	12. Chapten Eleven

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

_“’Mike’s my friend,’ said Harry, his voice now shaking. “And you framed him, didn’t you?’”_

_-Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_

_\---_

Mike rushed over to the broom closet concealing Aragog as soon as he could, miraculously breaking away from the Gryffindor common room. He was almost caught by patrolling professors a number of times, but was able to duck into the shadows and avoid being seen.

Once he made it into the closet, be peeked around for Aragog. “Aragog? Aragog, where are you?”

“I’m here,” said the spider, who had doubled his size in a matter of months. “Have you figured out how to get me away from this place? I cannot stay here any longer.”

“There are teachers everywhere, patrolling the corridors—I barely could get over here—I wish I had plan, Aragog, but—“

“Mike, you promised me you would get me out of here. As long as that creature lurks the castle, I cannot be here—“

“I know!” Mike said, for what felt like the millionth time. “I know, and I should have let you out when things weren’t so tense, but now the other creature has killed a girl—someone I knew—if they find you, I don’t know what they’ll do to you.”

Aragog’s eight eyes looked down to the floor, narrowing. “Perhaps,” he said, looking back up to Mike, “a might take my chances and make a run for it. I can defend myself—I’ve grown to a size that will make them fear me.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” said Mike, slumping down onto the floor. “People do stupid things when they’re afraid.”

They sat in silence for a moment, as Mike looked around for anything that might give him a clue for a successful escape. His eyes fell on a large box filled with rags. Standing up, he emptied out the box’s contents and sat it next to Aragog.

“What do you think,” asked Mike, “Do you think it’ll hold you?”

“Perhaps—will the staff not think this suspicious?”

“Maybe, put it’s the only chance we’ve got. Alright, into the box—“

Just then, the door to the broom closet opened. Mike stood as quickly as he could, trying to block the intruder’s view of the huge spider behind him.

Grant Ward held out his wand to Mike, looking from him to Aragog with a smirk on his face. “Evening Mike.”

“What are you doing here?” asked Mike forcefully, shutting Aragog within the box.

“It’s over, Mike,” said Ward, stepping closer. “I’m turning you in. They’re talking about closing Hogwarts if the attacks don’t stop.”

“You don't think—“

“I don’t think you meant to kill anyone. But monsters don’t make great pets, do they? I suppose you just let it out for exercise and—“

“He never hurt anyone!” yelled Mike, as Aragog became more and more restless.

“Come on, Mike,” said Ward, moving the end of his wand closer to Mike’s face. “The dead girl’s guardians will be here tomorrow. The least Hogwarts can do is make sure the thing that killed her is slaughtered.”

“I wasn’t him!” yelled Mike, voice shaking with desperation.

Ward yelled out a spell, filling the broom closet with a bright light that hit the box concealing Aragog. The box flew open, and Aragog jumped out, barreling over Ward and knocking him off his feet.

“Aragog, go!” called Mike, looking out and watching the spider rush through the castle.

Ward got to his feet, and immediately screamed, “Help! Help! I’ve got the attacker! I’ve got the attacker!”

Mike was completely blocked into the broom closet, and Ward still had his wand on him.

“Your pet my have gotten away,” said Ward through gritted teeth, “but you won’t.”

 

* * *

 

Fitz looked over at Mike, who sat between him and Coulson, across from Headmistress Hill. Fitz had never seen Mike look so small, hunched over in his chair with his head hanging low, too tired to continue telling his side of the story over and over again.

“Look,” said Hill, “we have to go with the evidence present. I know you all say that the creature in question wouldn’t be able to produce petrification, but that spider is the only category-five beast that has been seen in the castle. And Mike is the owner. I have to expel him, I don’t have a choice.”

“But we know it was a basilisk—“ Fitz started.

“You ‘know?’ Where did you see the basilisk last?” Hill pressed. “It’s been centuries since a basilisk has been seen—for all we ‘know’ they are extinct.”

“We don’t have proof, no,” said Coulson calmly, “but you can’t honestly tell me that you think Mike a murderer.”

Hill sighed heavily. “No, I don’t, which is why he is being expelled and not sent to Azkaban.”

Mike opened his mouth to say something, but slumped back into his chair again.

“Mike doesn’t have anyone to go home to, Professor Hill,” said Fitz, once again looking at Mike’s shrinking figure. “Is there anything we can do to help?”

Hill thought for a moment. “Well, I did just hear that Stan plans to retire at the end of the year—something about ‘this place getting to loud;’ Mike could come on as the gamekeeper.”

Mike looked up, turning his head to Fitz. “That—that wouldn’t be so bad,” he mumbled softly.

“That would be great, Professor,” said Fitz. “Thank you.”

“I assume, Professor Fitz,” said Hill, “that you can help Mike get settled into his position?” 

“Yes, of course, Professor!” Fitz answered, giving Mike a pat on the back.

As Fitz, Coulson, and Mike walked out of the office, Fitz let out a loud whooping sound.

“This is great, Mike,” he said. “Although, you’re still expelled, so not ideal, but much better than Azkaban!”

“You’re telling me!” said Mike, looking as if he were in shock. “As far as expulsions go, I guess I’m pretty lucky—thank you both, for sticking up for me, for knowing I didn’t do it.”

“Of course, Mike,” said Coulson. “There’s no way you’re going to Azkaban. Not while I’m around.”


	13. Chapter Twelve

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

_“But at that moment, Mike leapt from the sofa and drew a battered pink umbrella from inside his coat.”_

_-Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone_

_\---_

Simmons ran into the staff room, seeing Fitz and wrapping him up in warm hug. “We did it! All the victims have been revived!”

“Well, that’s a relief,” said Fitz. “This day has been filled with terrible situations somehow working out not so terribly.”

“What do you mean?” asked Simmons.

Fitz quickly told her all that had happened with Mike, trying not to sound too excited that his favorite student had been expelled and would now be the new gamekeeper. 

A grin formed on Jemma’s face. “The Mandrakes and Mike aren’t the only things that have turned up recent events.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Well, last night I had a visitor,” Jemma hinted. “Someone who we know well and recently left us.”

Fitz eyebrows furrowed. “Who on earth are you talking about?”

“Mary Sue! She’s a ghost!”

“She—really?” Fitz asked, eyes wide.

Jemma nodded, a smile on her face. “Said she was off to haunt Lorelei Hornby.”

“That’s—well, that’s about the best damn thing that could have come out this whole mess.”

“Exactly! Hopefully Lorelei will learn a thing or two about bullying,” said Jemma. “I’d bet my wand she’ll be kicking herself about that for years.”

Fitz nodded in agreement. “Hey, speaking of wands…” He led Simmons into a corner, away from the others staff in the room. “I have a little project that I need your help with…”

  

* * *

 

 

Later that week, Fitz and Simmons found Mike sitting on the grounds by the lake.

“Hello, Mike,” said Fitz as he and Simmons reached him. “Mind if we join you?”

“Not at all,” said Mike.

The two sat down, and an awkward moment passed where no one spoke. Mike kept his eyes trained towards the forest, and sighed heavily.

“I’m sure he’s—Aragog, was it?—I’m sure he’s all right,” offered Fitz, giving Mike’s shoulder a squeeze.

“From what I’ve heard from the teachers,” said Simmons, “he should be able to take care of himself pretty well." 

Mike chuckled. “Yeah, I’m sure he’s fine. I just miss having him around.” 

“Well,” said Fitz, pulling out a long package from his robes, “we’ve got something that might cheer you up.”

Fitz handed the package to Mike, who took it skeptically, as if very few people had given him presents before. He opened it up, revealing a small pink umbrella.

“Ah…” Mike started, looking at the umbrella and giving a weak smile. “Thank you?”

Simmons and Fitz laughed. “There’s more to this than meets the eye,” said Simmons. “Fitz came across the remains of your wand, and well—“

“—We figured out a way to conceal it,” finished Fitz.

“You mean,” said Mike, looking back and forth between them and the umbrella, “that my wand is in here?”

They both nodded, barely able to contain their excitement.

“Why a pink umbrella?” Mike asked, holding it up and inspecting the lace trim.

“Who would ever guess that there was a wand hidden in that?” Simmons pointed out, looking very smug.

“Wow. Thank you both,” said Mike. “I’ll still be able to do magic.”

“Yep,” said Fitz. “I wish we could’ve kept you from being expelled—this is the least we could do.”

“Besides, since you’re not the one who was causing the attacks,” said Simmons, “we don’t want you to be without protection in case they start it up again.”

“If we have more attacks next year,” said Fitz warily, “I don’t know what we’re going to do—especially if we can’t find that chamber. There’ll be no way to prove anything until then.”

“Don’t worry, Professor Fitz,” said Mike, holding fast to his umbrella. “We’ll figure it out. What will come, will come, and we’ll meet it when it does.”

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it! DaniMeows/Drunkavocados, I really hope this brought a smile to your face! I had an absolute blast writing this story. Brought me back to the days of writing Harry Potter fanfic while waiting for the next book to be released. 
> 
> Seriously, I don't think I've ever had this much fun with a story. Thanks so much for inspiring it!!!


	14. Epilogue

_About fifty years later._

Fitz made his way slowly to the front room of his and Simmons’ home, hearing the familiar _pop_ of his wife apparating from the Hogsmeade station. As she took off her cloak, Fitz sat down in the chair by the fire, gripping the arm firmly to avoid aggravating his aging joints and setting aside his cane.

“How was the Welcome Feast?” he asked, trying to sound casual, but knowing Jemma could hear the ache in his voice.

She came and sat down next to him, giving his hand a squeeze. “It wasn’t the same without you,” she said.

“Do you—do you think Mike will need my help this year?” he asked. “You know, just as he’s starting out and all…”

Jemma chuckled softly as she got up to fluff a pillow and put it underneath Fitz’s leg (the one that was still whole). “I think he’ll be fine, dear. You wanted to retire, remember?”

 Fitz sighed heavily. Yes, he wanted to retire. Teaching was getting to be too much for him, and he liked the idea of having more time at home. He planned to write a book about clabberts and perhaps travel to see some in their natural habitat. But he would miss Hogwarts, no doubt about that.

“You know,” Fitz said, looking coyly at his wife, “retirement would be a lot more fun with you joining me.”

“Oh, Fitz,” she said, rolling her eyes but smiling at him all the same. “We’ve talked about this. I’ve got a few more years left in me and then I’ll join you. Promise. Besides, Harry Potter just started at Hogwarts—isn’t that exciting!”

“All right, all right,” he said. He got up slowly, bending down to give Jemma a kiss where she sat. “Just promise me you’ll come home every now and then and keep me company.”

Jemma grinned at him in response. Despite the years, Fitz was still amazed by her smile, which had only become more pronounced as deep laugh lines, marks of all their happy times together, were now etched across her face. “Of course, Fitz,” she said, cupping his face with her hands. “I’m in this for the long haul, remember?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to add a short wrap up to round out the story!

**Author's Note:**

> While I totally made up the idea that Ward (Voldy) figured out a way to shake the Trace on him while underage, I don’t think it’s that far-fetched of an idea. Riddle did kill his father/grandparents at the age of 16 and no one seemed to notice (well, not in the magical community). Either the Trace worked differently when Riddle was young, or he figured out a way to evade it. Or perhaps he did a memory charm on any ministry officials that came? Who knows?


End file.
